


Never-Ending Circle

by angelofthequeers



Series: Oneshots [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean's just a bundle of feels okay, Emotional Dean Winchester, Emotional Sex, Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Feels, Fluff, Goddamn sap, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Post-Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, Romance, Smut, Wing Kink, Written for artwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: It's a never-ending circle of life and death for the Winchesters. Live, die, live again, die again. And after Cas' latest death at the hands of Lucifer, Dean thought that this was Cas' final death. Maybe he'd finally broken that circle.Maybe Dean just needed to have a little more faith in their ability to defy ancient cosmic beings.





	Never-Ending Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> So [castielsgal](http://castielsgal.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr wanted to know if anyone could write a fic around her piece of art and, well…I volunteered as tribute. [We crossposted](https://castielsgal.tumblr.com/post/172635511139/supernatural-s13-e5-advanced-thanatology-the).
> 
> (BUT SERIOUSLY HER ART IS SO AMAZING GO LOOK RIGHT NOW)

The drive back to the bunker was…surreal. Dean’s eyes kept flicking to the rear-view mirror, watching Cas slump in his seat, eyes watching his dark surroundings fly past outside the window in a blur. It almost felt like he was making sure that Cas couldn’t just disappear again.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. Cas was here. He was safe and sound. Here in Baby, with Dean. But that didn’t mean that Cas couldn’t still vanish again. Rule of thumb with Dean’s life: anything normally impossible was certain to happen to him.

Man, he should’ve let Sam drive back. Right now, all he wanted to do was imprison Cas in his arms and kiss the breath out of him and make sure that he couldn’t go anywhere ever again.

And okay, the meeting between Cas and Jack was actually kinda sweet. Dean would deny it until his (permanent) dying day but seeing Jack hug Cas and finally knowing for sure that Jack saw Cas as his dad and not Lucifer…it warmed Dean’s cold, dead heart, especially when Jack admitted that he’d begged for Cas to return and had possibly been the reason for Cas’ resurrection. And the kid was so eager to please, even having found them a case out in Dodge that they were going to head out for in the morning.

Which was how Dean found himself in his bed, wide awake at ass o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep despite being physically and emotionally drained after that ghost house case, his confrontation with Billie, and Cas coming back from the dead. It was the Cas part that was especially getting to him. Cas was right _here_ , in the bunker, and all Dean had to do was go and see for himself that Cas was really alive…but he just couldn’t. There was still a part of him that was terrified that this was all a dream and he’d wake up with the taste of regret on his tongue and a pit of despair in his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had this dream, though it’d never felt so goddamn realistic.

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered. If it was a dream, it was a freaking dream. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stumbled over to his door, and opened it…only to end up face-to-face with Cas, who had a fist raised to knock.

“Dean.” Cas lowered his fist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me so soon after –”

“Get the hell in here.” Dean reached out to grab Cas by the tie, then yanked the angel into the room and closed the door by shoving Cas into it, sealing their mouths together like he was dying of thirst and Cas was his oasis. Which, okay, was the sappiest fucking thing he’d ever thought, but it wasn’t actually that far from the truth regarding how he was feeling.

“I’m happy to see you too, Dean,” Cas said breathlessly when Dean retreated for air. Dean let out a funny laugh-cry and rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the sobs he was trying to contain because goddammit, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry. Even if his boyfriend slash love of his life had just come back from the dead.

“You died.” Dean slid his hands under Cas’ trench coat – Trench Coat 3.0, wasn’t it? Whichever cosmic being had sent Cas back had given him a trench coat eerily reminiscent of the first – and pushed it off his shoulders. “You fuckin’ died.” Off came the suit jacket. “Again.” Then the tie. “And I – I freaking prayed to Chuck. But he ignored me.”

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester was the praying type,” Cas said. But the joke died as soon as it crossed his lips.

“Shuddup.” Dean fumbled to undo Cas’ shirt buttons, resisting the urge to just rip Cas’ shirt open and tear it off him. “I never pray. But you – you’re different. I hate it. I hate what you do to me.” His breath hitched. “I fucking hate you, Cas.”

Cas reached out to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the skin. Dean fought back the choked sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you too, Dean.” There was so much damn tenderness and understanding and affection in Cas’ voice and shit, shit, Dean couldn’t take it, he needed to touch Cas right now, ground himself, reassure himself that Cas was here and alive, because if this was a dream or if someone was fucking with him, he wouldn’t be able to take it –

“Dean?” A hand grabbed his and squeezed, anchoring him against the flood of thoughts and fears and just _everything_ that was threatening to overwhelm Dean and sweep him away. When Dean’s vision refocused, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes crinkled with concern and fixed right on him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck it. Dean ripped Cas’ shirt apart the rest of the way, causing buttons to scatter across his bedroom floor and Cas’ shirt to slither off, and then grabbed Cas by the hands and tugged him backwards towards the bed. Dean fell back on the mattress and pulled Cas on top of him.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice cracked. “I love you so goddamn much. And it terrifies me. You fucking terrify me, Cas. This – this power you got over me –”

“Is the exact same power you hold over me,” Cas said, brushing strands of sandy hair out of Dean’s eyes. How was the son of a bitch so damn calm about all this? “I’m just as scared as you. But I’m back, and I won’t let Lucifer take me from you again.”

“You _left_!” Dean let out a small sob and wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck to bury his face in the angel’s shoulder. “You left me, Cas!”

“But I came back,” Cas countered. “I always come back to you. I always come when you call, Dean.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through Dean’s body. “I know what will help.”

Dean untangled himself from Cas so he could ask what exactly was happening. But as soon as he caught sight of the look of concentration on Cas’ face, he knew. “Cas, no, you don’t gotta bring your wings out, I know you hate how they look –”

“Hush.” There was a flash of lightning and the shadow of Cas’ wings appeared on the wall behind him. But – holy shit. They weren’t torn and bedraggled and broken like before. They were…

“Your wings – they’re – but how?” Dean spluttered as the shadows solidified. Holy shit. No longer were Cas’ feathers limp and a dull, lifeless black. No, they were healthy and shiny and glossy, silky smooth when they brushed against Dean’s arms and sent an electric shock arcing across his skin. “Oh my god –”

“God had nothing to do with this,” Cas said, watching Dean’s reaction with a small smile. “It was Jack. Back when we were confronting Dagon and he used me as a conduit to channel his power and destroy her. He…well, he restored my wings. I was just as surprised as you are.”

“Why didn’t you just flap around, then?” Dean said in a hushed voice, running his fingers along the feathers and causing Cas to shiver violently, feathers fluffing up. “You coulda come back here when you got back.”

“I still can’t fly. Not until Metatron’s spell is reversed, which won’t ever happen unless God decides to intervene. My wings may not have been burnt off, but I still don’t have my full grace back. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back from the spell he used to close the Gates of Heaven. But…it’s nice to have my wings restored, even if they’re mostly for display.”

Mouth still hanging open, Dean continued to stroke and pet Cas’ wings, nearly unable to comprehend the enormous difference between Cas’ old, broken wings and…these. He really _did_ have Cas back. The reminder that Cas had died was a bucket of icy water over his head, and he made a small sound and sat up to frantically shrug his plaid shirt off. He needed to be naked, preferably yesterday. Even if they didn’t do anything, he had to feel Cas’ bare skin against his own, even if just to ground him in the fact that Cas was _here_ and _alive_.

Five minutes later, Dean’s clothes had been deposited on the floor in a heap, Cas’ shoes and socks joining them, and they were making out frantically. Cas hadn’t even bothered to remove his slacks, so the material rubbed against Dean’s hardening dick every time Cas shifted, and the sensation plus the knowledge that _Cas was back, he was here, not going anywhere_ were so utterly maddening that Dean was already struggling not to blow his load. The way Dean was slumped against the headboard, legs loosely framing Cas’ hips as they kissed and groaned and whimpered, was just further proof of how damn out of his mind Dean was now that he had Cas back.

Cas was back. Cas was back. Back, back, back, _back_.

His brain replayed that on a constant loop as he tightened the arm around Cas’ neck and gripped a fistful of Cas’ dark hair with his other hand, using the slick slide of skin and fluffy, ticklish locks to ground himself in the moment so he wouldn’t have to remember how it had felt when Cas had been stabbed, and he’d been dead, a corpse on the ground, and Dean had had to _burn_ him –

“Dean,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips when Dean made a small, strangled sound. “I’m here, Dean. Focus on now.” As though proving this point, he brushed his wings down Dean’s legs, the feathers zinging whatever inch of skin they touched, and Dean let out a tiny little sob.

“You were dead,” he said thickly against Cas’ mouth. “I lost you again.”

“And I’m here now,” Cas said. The sight of him on his knees between Dean’s legs, hands braced against the wall behind them, biceps bulging, made Dean tighten his grip on Cas’ hair and drag him back in for another sloppy, furious kiss.

“Want you.” Dean’s voice cracked. “Want you, Cas. Need you.”

“You have me.” Cas kissed Dean on the lips, long and sweet. “You always have me.”

They rearranged themselves, Cas reclining against the pillows and Dean straddling his lap. Cas’ slacks had disappeared at some point during this process – probably zapped away by angel mojo, though Dean didn’t really care to spend a brain cell wondering about that. Not when Cas was wrapping him in arms and wings and kissing the oxygen out of his lungs, circling his hole with one finger and loosening it with warm bursts of grace. Dean shuddered violently at the sensation. There was something…both so _pure_ and so _dirty_ about Cas using his heavenly power to quicker prepare Dean for this kind of physical, earthly, completely unheavenly thing. Well. Not that it didn’t _feel_ heavenly.

Dean didn’t last long once Cas was inside him. At any other time, he might have been embarrassed; maybe even cracked a self-deprecating joke about stamina and being a teenager again, while Cas just regarded him with amusement and no judgement whatsoever. But this wasn’t one of those times. Dean was already on a razor thin edge when Cas entered him, and Cas wasn’t in the mood for fast and dirty; instead, he thrust up slow and deep, hands gripping Dean’s hips, wings cocooning Dean in a silky black embrace.

“Cas –” Dean cupped Cas’ face, drawing him in for a frantic kiss, thighs trembling with how close he was as he met Cas halfway in thrusts. Cas found his prostate on the next thrust, sending heat jolting from Dean’s gut, and it took one – two – three more hits before the warmth in Dean’s belly overflowed and coursed through his body, while he buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and spasmed and grabbed handfuls of the angel’s hair.

He was oversensitive as he floated back down from his high, come smeared between his and Cas’ bellies, but he just couldn’t ask Cas to pull out. He had Cas back. Cas was _inside_ him, and if Cas was inside him then he couldn’t be gone. Simple logic.

With a grunt and a gasped, “Dean!” Cas came, filling Dean with wet warmth as he gripped Dean’s hips so tight that he was certain to leave bruises. But that was good. Bruises were physical. Physical was grounding. And grounding meant that Dean could actually be _happy_. When Cas died, he’d taken Dean’s soul right with him, and he’d just given it back and fuck, Dean was definitely going to cry any second now, why was he so goddamn sappy?

Dean grimaced when Cas pulled out, both mournful of the loss and a little squicked out at the sticky stuff leaking down his thighs. But Cas easily cleaned them up, then flopped back on the bed and tucked Dean into his side, wings forming a protective blanket around him. Dean shivered and nuzzled into Cas’ neck as the feathers idly grazed across his skin, leaving tiny sparks of grace as they went. The grace in Cas’ wings reacting with the tiny bit of grace in Dean’s body from when Cas had raised him from perdition and rebuilt him. At least, that was according to Cas, and Dean didn’t even care if Cas was lying because that was sweetest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

“‘M glad you’re back,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ sweaty skin. Yeah right, didn’t sweat under any circumstances, his ass. More like didn’t sweat for anyone except Dean.

“I’m glad to be back,” Cas said, carding a hand through Dean’s hair. “Contrary to popular belief, being dead is really boring.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He snorted, then snickered, then chuckled, then burst into full-blown hysterics, burying his face in Cas’ shoulder to muffle his laughter. Cas’ chest rumbled underneath him as the angel laughed too, but Dean was so far gone it wasn’t funny. Blame the orgasm endorphins. Dean was always an emotional son of a bitch after sex.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again,” Dean said when his laughter had died down to the occasional hiccup. “Christ, Cas, I can’t live without you. I don’t mean that in some ‘I’m gonna bump myself off way’ – I literally feel dead when you’re gone. I _wanted_ to die, but Billie wouldn’t let me.”

“Billie?”

“Oh yeah, she’s the new Death. I’ll tell ya later. You’re – shit, man, you’re so goddamn important to me and I – I freakin’ love you.”

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean, hidden in the curtain of feathers shielding them from the world. “I love you too.”

“You leave me again and I’m gonna handcuff you to me. You capiche? You’re sendin’ me into an early grave.”

“I capiche. And my apologies. I didn’t think you needed any help with dying early.”

Dean snorted loudly. “Smartass. Now shut the fuck up and lemme sleep. We still got that case tomorrow. And don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Of course not,” Cas said, now running feathers and fingers down Dean’s back. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

Sure enough, when Dean groaned himself awake the next morning, Cas was right there, singing an Enochian song under his breath in his gravelly voice while running fingers along Dean’s scalp and twirling strands of hair around his fingers. Holy shit. Dean didn’t think he could love the guy any more than he did, but that moment absolutely smashed that assumption to pieces.

When Cas noticed that Dean was awake, a wide, soft smile spread across his face. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean just grinned foolishly back and pressed a deep kiss to Cas’ lips, losing himself in Cas’ fingers and lips and wings and warm body and just _Cas_. This was heaven right here, and if Dean didn’t have other responsibilities and a brother he also loved and wanted to see, he’d stay right here and never get up. “Mornin’, Cas.”


End file.
